It was with a smile on his face that Miro entered the lab, his mind filled with images of his beloved Dea, the softness of her slightly dry lips against his and the scent of lavender almost hidden beneath the smell of the city that clung to her. Something that even now managing to take his breath away at its familiarity. Placing a hand to his chest, he marveled at what he found every time he repeated this action since finding her again. Although excruciatingly slow and barely more than an occasional murmur, his heart was beating.

Somehow, being around her made him into something new, more than what he had been before. He could tell he was still immortal, the cut he gave himself as a test still healing just as fast as they always did, but somehow he had changed, evolved into something new. It was almost like something that had been long buried was finally bubbling up to the surface.

The feeling was strange but quite pleasant to his senses, the tingling of his slightly crystallized blood rushing through his veins, making tiny scratches on the inner walls that healed just as quickly as they appeared. The slight rush that normally followed a healed wound filled him constantly, almost like the effect he had seen certain drugs have on the human test subjects he'd experimented upon over the years.

The slight warmth in his chest that even now seemed to spread to his cheeks when he thought of her, especially when he recalled the things they had done together in some of her previous lives, was exhilarating to experience. He could barely wait to share such moments again, to see what else might have changed. To see how she would react to those changes.

But he also felt confusion right now, because no matter how much he tried to ignore it, she wasn't acting like she usually did when he found her. In all her previous lives she had seemed to feel the pull as much as he did, even if she might not necessarily remember him right away, something he had never truly proven one way or the other.

This time, it was almost like she didn't feel the pull at all or like she was denying its existence. Had he upset her that much in her last life, ending it in such a way in his rage, that she finally couldn't forgive him anymore? That she would forever treat him as if he were a stranger to her?

No, no, somehow he had to find a way to make her forgive him again. He had to earn her heart back, to have her love him again, the same as she had in all her previous reincarnations. Yes, he would treat her like the goddess he saw her as.

He would happily act as her servant for eternity if it would bring that loving smile back to her face when she looked at him. If she would just feel a fraction of what he felt every time he looked at her, that would be enough for him. It would have to be enough.

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"Miro?" Her questioning voice washed over him like a salve, releasing some of his insecurities as he entered deeper into her room, hearing her voice come from the other side of the beaded curtain that separated the main room from the one she resided in.

She must have heard the sound of the door as it had slid open, the gears making a soft whir as they moved the panel aside. With this thought in mind, he began walking towards the curtain, his footsteps soft upon the plush carpeting.

"Would you like my assistance, Dea? I would be more than happy to wash your back for you if you would allow me to do so." The smile on his face as Miro reached out to pull the curtain aside had a playful look to it.

When no answer sprang forth, he walked in just in time to see her pulling a towel around herself, hair clinging to her shoulders as water pooled at her feet. With a dark blush spreading across her cheeks, she began shaking her head at him, refusing to meet his eyes as her gaze danced across the room before settling on the floor like she was trying to memorize the swirling star-like patterns within the black tiles.

With a soft smile on his lips, he reached over and grabbed a second towel, taking a few steps forward before beginning to gently dry her hair. He ignored the way her body jolted before stiffening, continuing his slow movements until she finally began to relax. When she began leaning into the towel, he couldn't help but smile at the warmth filling his chest even more, the pace of his heart speeding up a tiny bit as he began moving behind her to get the longer hair on the back of her head.

It was the soft sound of pleasure she made as he began running his fingers through her hair afterward, removing the tangles left behind, that was nearly his undoing. By the time he was done finger-combing her hair, finishing by pulling it back and pinning it in place, he'd had to hurry from the room before he did something that could upset her.

It was the look of innocent trust that he had seen reflected in the mirror that had made him hold back, not wanting to chance losing it so early on. Not after having worried for over a century if he would be able to have her trust again. No, he would wait until she made the first move this time. He had learned patience after all these centuries.

Besides, if he let her make the first move, then he could be more assured that she was ready for what would come after she went through the change. With that thought in mind, he went to the kitchens to oversee the preparations of what would be their first meal together in over a century.

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Wiping a hand down the fogged up mirror, Dea stared at her reflection, unsure of the recent events and their meaning. Within the face that stared back, she could see hints of what she feared he would also see.

"Does he know? Is that why he plays this game with me?"